


Preparedness

by pajamaprodigy



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Childbirth, Foreshadowing, Gen, Nebula (Durarara!!), embarrassing words for vagina, segway chases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:57:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pajamaprodigy/pseuds/pajamaprodigy
Summary: Shingen Kishitani acts like a dork and causes unspeakable human and inhuman suffering down the line





	Preparedness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WattStalf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/gifts).



> HAN I"M SORRY THIS IS LATE BUT THIS IS FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY 
> 
> I was going to write about Todoroki at first but I felt like I didn't have a good enough handle on his character to write a fic about him, so I switched to Shingen halfway through and then somehow Yodogiri got involved and made this fic take like 300 times longer than it had to, so i'm really really sorry, but. here u go.

A few decades down the road, Kishitani Shingen would call it the third best day of his life (the first and second being the days he married and met Emilia, respectively). It began, however, with a scream of pain as his now-ex wife’s elbow pressed deep into his ribs. 

“What on earth was that for?” he asked, reaching instinctively for his alarm clock, disoriented in the early morning dark.

“I said I think my water is breaking.”

He lay back down. “And therefore…?”

“You’re a doctor, Shingen. Tell me if I’m right.” Kinomiya Shouko grabbed hold of her husband’s shoulders, turning him to look at her again, her breath heavy and hot.

“Well to see if it really is amniotic fluid and not urine or discharge, I will have to take a closer look at your panties and your kitty. And for that I have to turn on the lights so if you would please—“

Shouko let out a sound somewhere between a howl and a moan and Shingen jumped. He didn’t have to ask.

“Seems there’s been a change of plans. I’ll call a cab to take you to the hospital,” he said, rolling out of bed and into a robe. 

“Please…” panted Shouko, her face knotted up in pain as she reached for his wrist. 

“Of course, my beloved. The doctors at Nebula know me well and will give you the highest quality care you can imagine.” Shingen slipped his hand out of hers. “You can’t imagine that I would be the one to see you through childbirth. After all, I’m a researcher, not an obstetrician. Though naturally I wouldn’t mind sitting in if that would set your mind at ease.”

Shouko nodded as a moan escaped her lips and Shingen rushed to the next room to call a taxi. 

In the backseat of the taxi, Shingen let Shouko hold his hand as she panted, but his attention was elsewhere. This was more than a week before the due date, and while he knew that due dates weren’t precise, he had been inactive. He cursed himself and his caution. 

Shouko had already prepared a bassinet and some blankets, diapers, and bottles, but Shingen had insisted on buying the rest. He had to be careful about this baby of course. While he knew many aspects of personality and intelligence were heritable, he had to raise his child right as well. And that meant conditioning from as early of an age as possible. And to Shingen, that meant immediately after birth.

 

The taxi finished its familiar route towards the Nebula-run hospital, and as soon as Shouko was in the care of two smiling female nurses, he bolted back outside. The sun was just beginning to peak up above the Ikebukuro skyline, and Shingen gave himself a moment to watch it rise. A child born in the morning, in the beginning of spring: it was all so auspicious that Shingen couldn’t help smiling beneath his mask. Then the moment passed, and he tore down the street calling at the top of his lungs for a taxi to Sunshine City. 

By noon, when he flopped exhausted into a seat at a streetside café a ssafe distance from the mall, Shingen felt utterly defeated. Sunshine City had exactly none of the things he needed and his attempts to get help from a salesperson had only led to more trouble. Ultimately he had to choose between spending the day of his first child’s birth in the police station or fleeing like a common crook, and Shingen chose the second option. “At least I’m faster than a segway,” he thought bitterly, staring down at his cup of coffee. 

He lifted the bottom of his mask to take a sip and reviewed his options. He could seek out miniature scrubs and model surgical tools on foot in another mall or he could return to the hospital and try to find a specialty store using a phonebook or even one of the office’s newly-arrived computers. Again, Shingen picked the latter option: it was far more dignified than running about on foot through Tokyo, pursued by security guards—though he was almost certain they’d stopped looking for him by now. He drank the rest of his coffee in gloomy silence and wondered what kind of effect this delay in procuring teaching supplies would have on the child. He had no idea whether the child was born yet; his own mother had claimed to have spent days in labor with him but that seemed to be an exaggeration. It must have only felt like days because of the pain. 

After getting off the taxi at the hospital, Shingen made a beeline for the nearest phonebooth and very nearly collided with a thin, beareded, elderly gentleman headed towards the doors. Shingen opened his mouth to apologize but the old man spoke first. 

“Are you a doctor here?”

“Yes I am, sent from Nebula’s Tennessee office to help the company open here. You see, I am a native of Japan, of this very city in fact, and in addition to my skills as a researcher, my superiors in America believed that I could help some of the others on my team adjust to Japanese customs,” Shingen answered proudly.

“Oh! Dr. Kishitani, then?” The man laughed. “I’ve heard a great deal about you and about your area of research, but this is the first time we’ve met face to –ah. Mask.” He chuckled, then bowed. “I am Yodogiri Jinnai. Honored to make your acquaintance, and I look forward to our partnership.” 

“Kishitani Shingen.” Shingen bowed as well. Who this Yodogiri was did not bother him in the least; Shingen’s mind was too concerned with other matters to wonder why someone he had never heard of would know about him and claim to have some kind of “partnership.” Besides, there was nothing in his aura suggesting the impact this man would have on the lives of Kishitani Shingen, his son, and countless others on three continents over the course of the coming decades. 

“I cannot help but notice that you were headed towards the phonebooths. Is it possible you had to make a call?” Yodogiri asked. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but if there’s anything you need, I would like to make myself useful.” 

“Well,” Shingen folded his hands. “There is something. My child is currently being born somewhere in this hospital. I want to begin this child’s education early, and to do that, I need model surgical tools and miniature scrubs—after all sanitation is never to be disregarded. I have traversed the city all day on foot, but I’ve found nothing at all.” Stretching the truth a little might make this Yodogiri more willing to help, he thought. 

“All day?” asked Yodogiri, his expression turning to one of polite concern. “But you needn’t have done that at all. I’ll commission what you need through some contacts in America, and you’ll be able to start your child’s ‘education’ by the time your wife returns from the hospital.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Shingen clasped his gloved hands in relief. “How much to I owe you for this, Dr. Yodogiri?”

“Dr. Yodogiri?” Yodogiri laughed. “I’m not a doctor at all so there’s really no need to call me one. Still, thank you very much. And you don’t need to worry at all about monetary compensation. Think of this as a favor for a good friend, because that’s what we’ll consider each other soon enough, Dr. Kishitani.” He produced a legal pad from his outer coat and held it out to Shingen. “Now, write what you need here, leave this with my secretary when you’re done—office number 122, it’s at the end of this hall on the right. I have a meeting at two, so I’ll be off now, but we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

“Farewell, Yodogiri. Thank you again; words cannot express my gratitude,” Shingen sputtered as he grasped the pad of paper. 

Sitting in a phone booth, Shingen wrote feverishly, checking and rechecking every word. He wanted to make the most out of this incredible opportunity for himself and his child, born or unborn, as his fate was sealed both in Shingen’s ballpoint scribbles and in Yodogiri’s gentle words.


End file.
